Turn Up The Lights. I Don't Want

I Wanted To Paint A Picture Some Day That People Would Stand Before And Forget That It Was Made Of Paint. I Wanted It To Creep Into Them Like A Bar Of Music And Mushroom There Like A Soft Bullet.

There Is One Day That Is Ours. There Is One Day When All We Americans Who Are Not Self-made Go Back To The Old Home To Eat Saleratus Biscuits And Marvel How Much Nearer To The Porch The Old Pump Looks Than It Used To. Thanksgiving Day Is The One Day That Is Purely American.

Most Wonderful Of All Are Words, And How They Make Friends One With Another.

Not Very Long Ago Some One Invented The Assertion That There Were Only "four Hundred" People In New York City Who Were Really Worth Noticing. But A Wiser Man Has Arisen - The Census Taker - And His Larger Estimate Of Human Interest Has Been Preferred In Marking Out The Field Of These Little Stories Of The "four Million.

It's Said That Love Makes The World Go Around. Let Me Tell You, The Announcement Lacks Verification. It's The Wind From The Dinner Horn That Does It.